Bloody Awful Poetry
by Sanguinary
Summary: Based on the line from Fool for Love. William goes to make the snobs pay for what they said. PG 13 for graphic violence and bad poetry.
1. Bloody Awful Poerty

TITLE: Bloody Awful Poetry  
AUTHOR: Sanguinary  
COPYRIGHT: Sanguinary. That's all.  
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me before you take it. I just want to know where it's   
going. Thanks.  
RATING: PG 13 for graphic violence and bad poetry.  
CATEGORY: Horror.  
SPOILERS: Fool for Love. If you haven't see it, you will be lost.  
COUPLES/KEYWORDS: Spike/Drusilla, m/f  
DISCLAIMER: Spike and Drusilla don't belong to me. They belong to might   
Joss and his universe. So please don't sue because all I have to give you is   
my collection of classic rock and 3 1/2 inch floppies. But the names (Lord   
Weatherby, Lady Elizabeth and Lord Dale) were my own creation.   
FEEDBACK: I love feedback. I crave feedback.   
SUMMARY: Based on the conversation below from Fool for Love.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lord Weatherby: And that's actually one of his better compositions.  
  
Lady Elizabeth: Have you heard, they call him "William the Bloody" because of his   
bloody awful poetry.  
  
Lord Dale: It suits him. I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than   
listen to that awful stuff...  
  
~Taken from http://www.mustreadtv.com/buffyscripts/ffl1.html~  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was a clear summer night in London. Lord Dale walked over cobblestones as he   
made his way towards the address of William 'the Bloody' Paracelet. Dale was   
surprised that William would even talk to him after last night's comments at the   
party. ~But then again,~ Dale thought, ~William has been acting strange lately.   
Writing love poetry. Even if it is terrible poetry.~ Dale's thoughts turned to   
Lady Elizabeth. She had pointed out William's nickname last night. ~She's a work   
of art. I think I might court her, someday.~   
  
Dale reached the address and checked his invitation once more. It read;  
  
'You are cordially invited to the home of William Paracelet for tea on  
June 4, 1800 at the hour of 10:00. Come alone or with a friend.'  
  
The old, decrepit house where William lived looked like should have been torn down   
long ago. But he had told Dale many times of how much inspiration it gave him for   
his poetry. ~If that's what gives him inspiration,~ Dale though with a smirk on   
his face, ~it's no wonder that his poetry is a rotten as this house.~   
  
The old steps creaked under Dale's footsteps, warning the inhabitants of visitors   
approaching. Before he could reach for the doorknob, the door swung inwards and   
William voice floated out of the dark, empty space.   
  
"Come in." The young, slightly feminine face appeared and gestured for Dale to   
enter the threshold. His honey-blond curls were in disarray with bright blue eyes   
beneath. It was almost immediately after William had shut the door after Dale that   
he noticed that something was wrong.   
  
The fancy clothing that had looked so neat last night, was stained with a dark,   
black liquid. And the inside of the house smelled like a meathouse, rotting flesh   
and fresh blood. Dale wrinkled his nose and then stepped backwards, trying to   
leave. "I don't think I should be here right now. I'll..."   
  
Two hand lunged out form behind William's back and pulled Dale closer. "No this is   
the perfect time." William knocked Dale onto the floor and into a pool of stick   
red blood. Dale tried to scream but a well placed kick caused pain to explode   
behind his eyes. As the fireworks started to disappear, Dale realized that he was   
being bound up with ropes. He tried to scream once more, but found that a gag had   
been used to scilence him. Beside him sat Lady Elizabeth, also tied in the same   
manner. And beside her, Lord Weatherby.  
  
"Well now, my friends," William almost spit the last word out, "I have invited   
you all here today for a poetry reading. The last you will ever here, I'm afraid   
to say. " And evil smile passed across his face and he picked something up from a   
table's edge. He held it behind his back and approached Dale.   
  
"I've found something for you. It's not very effulgent, more of a rusty metal sort   
of item. But I think that my actions will speak louder that words in this case."   
And with that he pulled the railroad spike from behind his back, letting the metal   
glisten in the fading light. Dale's eyes focused upon the spike and before he   
could do anything, William stabbed his though the shoulder. Dale screamed in   
terror and pain as he watched blood pour out of his damaged shoulder.   
  
William smiled as he pulled the spike out of his shoulder and put it up to Dale's   
head. "Since you would rather have a railroad spike though your head than listen   
to my poetry, I'll grant your wish. But I have one last poem to tell you. I really   
hope you don't mind much. I put a lot of effort into it."   
  
'There was a young Lord named Dale,  
Who's face turned extremely pale.  
The reason? He was dead.  
My spike though his head  
And his brains the color of shale.'  
  
And with that last line, William shoved on the spike. A cracking noise filled his   
ears and Dale tried to scream. But he found he had lost the function to do much of   
anything. William grasped the end of the spike and pulled it out of his head.   
Liquefied gray matter mixed with crimson blood flowed out of the wound like wine   
out of a barrel. And it was wine to William. The finest vintage that he could   
taste.   
  
Lizzy looked in horror at the bloody mess that was leaking out of Dale's head and   
she tried to scream. But the gag in her mouth kept her from crying out. She   
struggled helplessly against the bonds as William walked nearer.  
  
"So, you thing that my poetry is bloody awful? Well, before you jump to any   
conclusions, I have some more poetry for you my dear. Composed for you almost   
immediately after my first kill."  
  
'Dear poor Lizzy  
You words wound me  
Didn't you think at all.  
  
That I might come back,  
And happily tack,  
Your body to the alleyway wall.  
  
Poor, simple Lizzy  
You just weren't thinking  
So you wounded my pride.  
  
But don't worry dear,  
Though you'll not see next year,  
Your blood will fill me inside.'  
  
An evil grin spread across William's face, as his vampire features dropped into   
place. Lizzy struggled more and more but it was of no use. William pulled her head   
back with one hand and held her down with the other. His fangs punctured the white   
flesh on her neck, forcing their way downwards to the pumping liquid beneath. A   
spray of the crimson redness filled the air, forcing it's way into the dark gullet   
of the vampire. William kept his lip pressed to the gash in her throat until all   
of the blood that had once ran though her veins was now settled comfortable in his   
stomach.  
  
Lord Weatherby had watched the whole thing and as William turned to him, blood   
smeared all around his mouth and his sharp little fangs, he did the one thing that   
he had prided himself on never doing.   
  
He fainted.  
  
William chuckled softly at the prone body of Weatherby as he wiped the blood away   
from his mouth.   
  
"Red the rain that falls upward from the earth. And the screams echo inside the   
empty gourd. Oh what a lovely river of blood," Drusilla floated into the room,   
whispering to herself. She walked up to William and wrapped her arms around him.   
"My little Spike has made a mess."  
  
"Spike?" William turned around and looked a Drusilla, "Who's Spike." Drusilla   
giggled as she lowered herself to the floor. The demon's features appeared over   
her's as she bared her teeth and drank from the prone Weatherby. When she lifted   
her head again, it was back to normal, except for the stain of red around her   
mouth.  
  
"Sweet Spike," She gazed up at him, eyes shining with a burning gaze, "You are   
my Spike." One smooth hand gestured towards the bloody spike lying on the floor.   
She stood up and looked at her hands. "Maggots are crawling all over my eyelids.   
Make me a poem, Spike. About the rats chewing my toes."  
  
William walked forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Anything for you."   
He kissed the side of her face and looked into her brown eyes. He would do   
anything for his sire.   
  
Even change his name.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Should I make a sequel where he gets rid of Cescily? Let me know.  
  
  



	2. Cecily Has to Die

TITLE: Bloody Awful Poetry 2: Cecily has to die  
AUTHOR: Sanguinary  
COPYRIGHT: Dec. 11, 2000  
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.  
RATING: PG 13  
CATEGORY: Horror  
SPOILERS: Fool for Love  
COUPLES/KEYWORDS: Spike/Dru  
DISCLAIMER: Everyone belongs to Joss. It's time we accepted that we own nothing. I own nothing   
but my own ideas and thoughts. And the non-existant plot of this story.  
FEEDBACK: As Wheezy says, "Love it!!!" Send it to Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com   
DEDICATED: To all the people who asked for it. And to the expression on poor William's face   
when Cecily regected him so cruely.  
SUMMARY:A sequal to Blood Awful Peotry. William, now calling himself Spike, decided to payback   
Cecily for what she did to him. Revenge is a dish best served while the spilt blood is still   
warm.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
SPIKE: Cecily?  
  
CECILY: Oh. Leave me alone.  
  
SPIKE: Oh, they're vulgarians. They're not like you and I.  
  
CECILY: You and I? I'm going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest   
answer. Do you understand? Your poetry, it's... they're... not written about me, are they?  
  
SPIKE: They're about how I feel.  
  
CECILY: Yes, but are they about me?  
  
SPIKE: Every syllable.  
  
CECILY: Oh, God!  
  
SPIKE: Oh, I know... it's sudden and... please, if they're no good, they're only words but...   
the feeling behind them... I love you, Cecily.  
  
CECILY: Please stop!  
  
SPIKE: I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see   
me-  
  
CECILY: I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
The moon turned it's sliver eye downwards and looked upon the shadowed streets of London. And   
it waited. For it knew that tonight was a special night in the live of one young man. It was a   
night of revenge, of payback and the night that a certian woman was going to get what she   
deserved.  
  
Tonight, William was going to get his revenge. Tonight, Cecily was going to die.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Cecily walked down the silient streets, ancious to get home. It had been three days since   
William confessed his love for her. Two days since he disapeared. One day since Lord Dale,   
Lord Weatherby and Lady Elizabeth were found brutaly murdered inside William's own home.  
  
It was rumored that the bodies had been found with their throats torn out. And one of the   
bodies had a hole puched in the side of it's head.   
  
Cecily's mind kept turning to the reports of animal attacks that had been reported all over   
London for the past month. Had something gotten into William's house and killed all of them,   
takeing William with it? Or had William done this himself?  
  
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the familiar blond step out of a dark   
alley and directly into her path. Cecily slammed into him and fell down.  
  
"Well, well," The clipped, english voice echoed though the empty city street," What do we have   
here?"  
  
Cecily looked up and gasped in suprize. For, standing above her, was William. His unruly blond   
hair was loose and wet with something dark. The tiny gold glasses that he usualy wore were   
noticably absent, making the already cruel smile seem especialy frighting. Gone were the   
aristocrat clothing, replaced by common, street clothing. Something red stained the side of   
his mouth and he reached up to wipe it away.  
  
"William?" Cecily's normaly stong voice was weak, filled with an unspeakabul terror that she   
could not express. An evil smile crossed the angelic features, making them loathsome to look   
upon.   
  
"It's Spike now." He stepped closer, almost on top of her, "William's dead. He died in a dirty   
stable, killed by a kiss from a demon as beautify as the moon. Thanks to your hash words." A   
harsh, barking laught caught Cecily off guard. "Do you know what's ironic? If it wasn't for   
you, I wouldn't be like I am. I would still be a useless poet, stuck under mommy's thumb and   
trying to make a stuck up bitch fall in love with him. Well, Cecily, who's beneath who now?"  
  
Cecily started to sit up but quicker than her mind could register, she found Spike stradling   
her waist, pining her to the gound.   
  
"I'll scream." She shouted to him, strugging to be free. That inhuman chuckle filled her ears   
and she gasped in horror as his features melted. The grinding of bones echoed though the   
deserted night, and Cecily screamed in earnest as the harsh blue eyes were replaced by the   
mocking golden demon's eyes. A sloped forehead and sharp, white fangs only hightened Cecily's   
terror.  
  
"Go right ahead," His voice was thick with some emotion Cecily couldn't identify," Oh by the   
way, I'm still writting poetry. I think that death has some what improved my poems. Let me   
read you one I've just composed."  
  
'Could it be?  
Cecily  
Suprizing to meet you here.  
On this dark night,  
Lit by moonlight.  
It's nice to see you dear.  
I never though  
That's you'd be caught  
Within a web a lies  
You didn't care,  
You stupid mare,  
Now you're body will be covered with flies.'  
  
Spike paused, "That last line just doen't work out does it? Oh well, remember Cecily, it's not   
the words but the meaning behind them." He twisted her arm, not letting go untill her heard   
the snap of breaking bones. Cecily screaming, loud, shill screams that reberverated off every   
flat surface. "Do you get the meaning, Cecily? Or do I need to give you another demonstation?"   
  
He leaned closer and bit her cheak. Warm blood cascaded into his mouth and he pulled away from   
her, a peice of the soft skin still in his mouth. White, pearly teeth, glistened in the   
moonlight though the hole in the cheek and were quickly covered with blood.   
  
"Help!" Cecily screamed, her words sounding akward and jumbled. "Someone!" Spike hit her,   
sending bolts of pericing pain lancing though her skull.  
  
"Stupid bint! What makes you think anyone gives a rat's arse about you?" His tone changed,   
harsh words becoming soft and gentle,"I've got one last present for you. This poem was written   
for you, Cecily."  
  
'You crushed my heart  
Beneath you heel  
No compasion  
Did you feel  
And now with your tables turned  
You reget the bridges that you burned  
As you see   
My true face  
Emerage  
To take it's place  
Cecily, this is your last breath  
For now it is time for you to meet death.'  
  
Cecily's tried to get out of his grasp but any movement caused her broken arm to send pain   
screaming up towards her arm. His golden eyes looked stright into her brown ones.  
  
"Do you know how it feels to have someone tear your heart out? No? Well, let me show you!"   
Spike thrust his arm downwards, the movment too fast for Cecily to see. A sudden pain in her   
rib-cage, quickly filled with an empty feeling. She could fill her chest cavity filling up   
with blood from open veins and arterys, and she watched in horror as Spike withdrew his arm,   
his hand wrapped tightly around the pulpy red organ known as the heart.   
  
Spike turned to the mouth of the alley and called out. "Dru."   
  
A raven haired woman seemed to float into the alley. She hummed quietly to herself, drifting   
to a song that she alone heard. The woman reached out her hands to Spike. He stood and handed   
her the heart. Dru looked at it, weighing it in her mind.  
  
"Empty as the light of day. No love for her today. Miss Edith shall want her tea." Dru dropped   
the heart on the ground. The wet slap it made when it hit the dirty earthen floor echoed   
though the walls, making it the last sound that Cecily's fading body heard.  
  
Spike walked up to Dru and pressed his lips to hers, trying to inhale the darkness that   
covered her like a veil. When he pulled back, he saw the mad twinkle in Drusilla's eye.   
  
"Miss Edith awaits us. For the party coming shall be the last till the moon calls out to the   
sun and hides her eye from us." She turned and drifted out of the alley, Spike following close   
behind.   
  
Neither one noticed the soft splatter when Spike stepped onto Cecily's heart, nor did they see   
Angelus, looking down proudly at the pair.  
  
"That's my childer."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
End. Finish. Hey, tell me if you liked it.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"And now, to the tune of 'Earl Had to Die" by the Dixey Chicks....  
  
Cause Cecily had to die. (Na-na-na-na-na-naaaaaa-na!)  
Goodbye! Cecily!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	3. It's About... Family

TITLE: Bloody Awful Poetry 3: Home Sweet Home  
AUTHOR: Sanguinary  
COPYRIGHT: Dec. 26, 2000  
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.  
RATING: PG 13  
CATEGORY: Horror and a bit of humor.  
SPOILERS: Spoillers for Fool for Love  
COUPLES/KEYWORDS: S/D, M/F  
DISCLAIMER: Everyone belongs to Joss. It's time we accepted that we own   
nothing. I own nothing but my own ideas and thoughts. And the non-existant   
plot of this story.  
FEEDBACK: I LOVE feedback. It's like candy, but without all the nasty   
cavities. Send it to Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com   
SUMMARY: Third in series. Spike remembers to make time for his family.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The Moral of This Story:  
  
Remember to take good care of your children, they'll pick your nursing home.  
  
Learn from your parents mistakes, use birth control  
  
Now You Can Read On.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Though the cobbled streets, the ultimate predators walked. These four had   
been responsible for the terror that was now sweeping London.   
  
Another cold night in London. At this time a night, the streets were   
usually crowded with people of all sorts of social standing and status.   
But tonight, as for the last two nights, no one dared walk the street. No   
one in their right mind when out after the sun set. For in the last week,   
two men and two woman, both of good character and other fine attributes,   
had been found mutilated. One woman's heart had been torn from her chest and   
one man had some sort of object, most likely a railroad spike, shoved clear   
though his head. And on top of that, a fifth man was missing.   
  
That man was William Paraclete. Known as William the Bloody or Spike to his   
new vampire friends, he had set out on a revenge mission that had resulted   
in the deaths of Lord Dale, Lady Elizabeth, Lord Weatherby and, most   
recently, Lady Cecily.   
  
And now, he was getting to the names of those two people who had made his   
life a living hell for the twenty-five years. Before the night was over,   
London would have two new name gracing the newspaper's front page.   
  
June and Harold Paraclete.  
  
William's parents.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
June Paraclete sat on the couch, waiting for Harold to bring her tea. She   
had refused to go to sleep for the past few days, waiting for William to   
come back home. She knew that if he didn't come back in the next few days,   
he would have to be dead.   
  
June had been an overbearing tyrant her entire life. From the day she had   
been born she had learned to manipulate and control people like puppets.   
She had married young and to a man three years younger than her. He had a   
lot of money, a family inheritance but no real skills.   
  
Harold was a wimp to the end. He had married June to please his parents and   
had let her dominate his life. And, when William was born, he had stood by   
and let her decide William's life as well. The only thing that June hadn't   
been able to crush out of William was his power of imagination. But June had   
made sure to deal with people without spines her entire lives. And that   
which did not bend to her will, would eventually break.  
  
Tea in hand, Harold entered the sitting room. He handed the ornate china   
cup to June and sat beside her. He had just settled in when there came a   
knock at the door.  
  
"Quick Harold!" June's head jerked towards the door, "Answer it!"   
  
Harold stood up and jogged towards the door. Uttering a small prayer, he   
opened the door and peered outside.  
  
There stood William and beside him was a black-haired woman. William was   
dressed in different clothing than what he had been wearing when he had   
left the house. He wore clothing that no one of their status should wear,   
but Harold was too relived to notice.   
  
"William," He sighed with relief, "You're all right."   
  
"Of course I am," A twisted smile made it's way onto William's face, "I've   
been... busy. Can we come in?"  
  
"Yes." Harold moved out of the doorway, "Come on in. And bring your lady   
friend with you."   
  
"Thank-you, ever so much," William's voice took on a sarcastic tone and he   
strutted though the doorway. "So, father dearest, how has mother been."  
  
Harold frowned at the tone of voice that Will was using. "She's been worried   
sick. Where have you been?"   
  
"Out." Will breezed by Harold and headed towards the sitting room. The young   
woman stood still as a statue just inside the doorway.  
  
"Miss?" He head slowly turned towards Harold. "What's you name? Miss.....?"  
  
"Drusilla." She replied,a slow smile coming across her face. "Spike said   
that I could have a lovely picnic. With all sorts of treats. Would you like   
to come to my picnic?" She stepped closer and tilted her head. "Eyes like   
his. Day set in the moon and all the stars come down to sing by the fire   
place. Can you hear them? What lovely carols they sing." Drusilla hummed   
quietly and let the demon come across her features.   
  
"What the?!?!" Harold tried to back away but her fragile looking hands   
wrapped around his shoulders like bands of steel. White fangs glistening,   
she stuck at his neck like a cobra. His scream of terror was stopped before   
it started.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
June finished her tea and looked up at William as he entered the room. A   
look of disgust crossed his face when she saw what he was wearing.   
  
"What did you think you were doing? Leaving and not even telling us what   
happened? And what are you wearing? Go upstairs and get cleaned up." She set   
the cup down and stood up. Will just leaned against the door frame and   
shook his head.   
  
"No." A single word was said, but it was the one world that June had never   
let anyone say to her.  
  
"What do you mean? No?" June walked up to Will and stared straight into his   
blue eyes. "Go. Upstairs. Now." The tone of voice in which she said those   
words was enough to make even the most defiant person quake in terror.  
  
But Will didn't blink an eye.  
  
"No." He said again, his voice a little louder, "I don't plan to go anywhere   
near those stairs."  
  
"What do you think you're doing!" June's voice rose. She had never been   
disobeyed by William and she wasn't about to let him start now. "You leave   
me for a week and then come marching back in this house looking like a   
common thief! You are going to go upstairs right this instant!"  
  
"No!" He pushed her and she fell down, landing on the floor. "I'm not going   
to listen to you." He walked towards her, a strange look coming across his   
face. June back-pedaled, frightened of the man standing in front of her. He   
wasn't the William she knew.   
  
He reached over and picked the tea cup off of the small table beside the   
sofa. Will stopped to admired it for a moment and then he broke it into two   
pieces.   
  
"I've been doing some thinking these last few days. And I've come to the   
conclusion that I don't need you anymore. All you ever did was try to   
destroy me and mold me into another gut-less man to boss around. But, I've   
got something better now." He knelt down beside June, flashed the sharp   
edges off of the tea cup in front of her eyes. "You see, I met a woman. And   
she gave the power to do whatever I want. Anything." His hands moved quicker   
than June could follow. Sudden pain flooded her senses and she screamed. A   
red haze filled her vision and she reached up to clear her eyesight. Will's   
hand shot out and grabbed her hands, pushing them to the floor.   
  
"Dru?" He called out, "Could you bring me the sack please?" Though the red   
haze, June saw a woman enter the room and hand a sack to Will.   
  
He released one of June's hands and took the sack. June wiped the blood from   
her eyes and watched as Will sat the sack on the floor and pull out a couple   
of nails. He released her other hand and June scooted backwards. In his   
right hand were the shreds of the tea cup, dripping with blood.   
  
Her blood.  
  
Will dropped the china on the floor and turned back to June. He let his   
human features disappear, bringing the monstrous features of the demon take   
their place. June's eyes widened and she paled considerably.   
  
"I've moved up mother. Made something better of myself." He reached out and   
grabbed her leg. A tug sent her back towards him. "And I've decide to give   
up poetry. You were right about it being a stupid pursuit. I thing I'll try   
art instead." He raised his right hand, letting the nails shine in the light   
of the oil lamp. "You'll make the front page tomorrow. I promise."  
  
He thrust his hand downwards. A wet smack was followed my screaming as he   
drove the nails into the palm of his hand.   
  
"Dru. Hold her down." Drusilla walked over June and sat down on June's   
stomach, forcing June's shoulders down with her blood-stained hands. Will   
reached back into the sack and pulled out a hand-full of nails and a hammer.   
He held the hammer in his left hand and started pounding on the nails in   
June's palm.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Two hours later, Spike stood up and looked at his handy-work.   
  
Nail covered almost available space on his mother's body. The eye-balls had   
been especially interesting to hammer though. The whitish liquid that had   
filled the eye sockets and made it a bit difficult to get an accurate hit.   
But other than that it had turned out better than he had thought. Dru had   
helped him until June had stopped struggling and then she had lost interest.   
She was out in the hallway, dancing in her blood-stained dress.   
  
Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it   
and set it on the body. Then he walked to Drusilla. He wrapped his arms   
around her and joined her in her dance.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The inspector arrived a 9:00 a.m. From what he had heard, this was the most   
gruesome of the five murders. The woman was no more than a human pin   
cushion, a mass of flesh and steel. Most of the squad had stepped outside   
to puke, himself included.  
  
What was worse was the note on the body. The man who had done this had a   
grotesque sense of humor. The murder had left a poem, dedicated to the body.  
  
'You said I'd be a failure  
That I'd get no where at all  
But I'm not the one  
With a nail though my skull  
  
My poetry may suck   
And so do I  
But I'm not the only one  
Who will die.  
  
For now you finally see  
What I really am  
And all that you are  
Is this year's Christmas ham'  
  
The inspector read and poem and decided, then and there, that he was   
quitting.  
  
He would have to tell the relatives about the tragedy though.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
To Be Continued....  
  
So, what did you think. (Or did you want more gore?) 


End file.
